Seven

Luke’s eyebrows rose when Glory took advantage of her mother’s tardiness and asked him for a moment alone.

Outside at the wagon, a mockingbird flew past with a grasshopper in its beak. That something so ungainly could provide food for a predator gave her nerves a start. It took a good minute before she managed to gather enough grit.

“I have a request, actually a proposal.”

“A proposition, you mean?”

His knowing grin made mush of what grit she’d plucked. Hell’s bells! He’d turned her simple appeal into something indecent. Trying to salvage her pride, she weathered the irritating smugness. Yet, she’d rather dance a jig with the pitchfork man himself.

“Will you be quiet until you hear me out?”

“Proposing can be sticky. You certain you’re ready to take this step? You seem to have left out the courting stage.”

The devilish smile reinforced his similarity with Lucifer.

“You know very well I’m not referring to a match between us. It’s not that sort of…arrangement.” Heat flooded her cheeks. If her situation weren’t so desperate, she’d leave the insufferable man standing neck-deep in his own egotistical mess.

“I see. Now it’s an arrangement…of sorts.” Mischief created twinkling stars in his brown stare.

“It’s no use.” She’d had enough of his foolish drivel. “You’re clearly bent on twisting my words and I can see Mama’s ready to leave for town. Good day, McClain.”

“Wait.” Luke caught her hand. “I’m sorry.”

Delicate, fleeting strokes on her skin gave birth to a mass of unsettling tingles. Her heart pounded. A lowered glance found the source. Luke slowly rubbed his thumb back and forth over her wrist with the excruciating ease of a musician strumming a viola.

“Forgive me? Please?” His husky murmur only served to increase the sound of the waltz only she could hear.

Without meaning to, she raised her gaze…and once more fell into his trap. A rabbit caught in a snare. She found herself encased in the handsome trickster’s genuine caring. Her parched mouth replicated the godforsaken land on which she stood—land she’d make a deal with a perfect stranger to keep.

“You clearly have a problem and I made light of it. If I promise to be good, will you tell me what you have in mind?”

Heaven help her. He beckoned toward a tempting path. The roguish glint in his eyes promised she’d have no regrets. Ha! She already did. Her hands remembered a nicely shaped behind and the solid muscle of a bare thigh. She recalled the soft breath of his mouth against her cheek in the almost-kiss that had found a home in her soul.

No regrets? Only of the worst sort.

Glory wet her lips, willing back the purpose that had brought her to seek him out. “I know you’ll be leaving here in a day or so. Will you pick up Perkins’s scent again?”

“Yep.”

“I wish to make a deal with you.” She twisted the handle of her threadbare bag, aware that the contents would not save them from destruction. A silver pocket watch and an emerald brooch couldn’t buy a farm…or a pig in a poke.

“I’m listening.”

The screen door closed. Her mother. She had to hurry, for what she had in mind didn’t call for an audience. Especially when that audience forbade it.

“Let me go with you after Perkins and we’ll split the reward fair and square.”

“No.”

Luke’s blunt refusal pricked her heart. The rogue meant to have the entire reward for himself.

“I’m merely asking for halves. Don’t make me beg.” She struggled against rising panic. Her pride wouldn’t allow weakness. Tears were for people with no backbone.

“Now there’s a tempting thought.” His low voice made her heart thud against her ribs. “Having it in my power to make you beg. Hmm. Might be worth reconsidering.”

A quick glance saw that her mother had stopped to talk with Patience, buying her a few extra seconds.

“I’ll agree to anything you want. I need that money.”

Ruth finished her conversation and came toward them.

“Anything, huh? Know what that means?”

The lump stuck in Glory’s throat. She stared at the dust swirling around her worn high-topped shoes. Should a woman feel this breathless when she’d sold her soul to the man who made her hope?

“Yes, I know.” The words came no louder than a whisper.

But she wished she didn’t. Wished she didn’t yearn for his touch as only an old maid could. And wished she could accept that which he hinted at for all the reasons she’d listed in her journal.

“We’ll leave tomorrow at first light.”

She almost swooned. “I’ll be ready.”

“Morning, Mr. McClain. Fine day, isn’t it?”

Her mother appeared in better spirits than she’d expected.

“Yes, ma’am. Right beautiful.” Luke helped Ruth onto the wagon seat. “Damn near perfect.”

The scintillating gleam in his dark eyes made it clear he didn’t refer to the weather.

She ignored the irritating grin and flicked the reins, urging Caesar forward. “Giddyup, boy.”

Luke’s whistling followed until they turned onto the main road to town, taunting her with the melody of “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.” It didn’t take a man of science to get the message.

“That’s a nice young man, don’t you think, Glory?”

That wasn’t exactly the word that came to mind. She must’ve lost what little sense she possessed. Very likely she’d set a path down the road to perdition with her bargain.

* * *

“Grab that pole, Punkin, we’re going fishing.” Luke swung into step, matching his stride with the girl’s.

“Can we take Miss Minnie, too?”

Patience cradled the mama calico. The affection the girl bestowed on the cat and her babies clearly came from being starved of companionship. From what he could gather, the children in town shunned her.

“Reckon so, but don’t you think the kittens’ll miss their mama? What if they get hungry?”

The girl skipped into the barn and over to the box where she’d corralled the babies. “Okay, Miss Minnie. Be a good mama to your children.” She set the calico down and watched the kittens squirm over to nurse. “I’ll give you a nice bowl of milk when I get back.”

Another cat, one he’d not seen before, jumped from the loft and over into the box. The straggly animal sported one green eye and one blue. Strangest thing he’d ever seen. Reminded him of the three-legged dog who’d taken up with him once. Felt sorry for the darn thing.

“Mornin’, Mr. George. You come to see your babies?” Patience cooed and petted the pitiful yellow cat.

“Mr. George?”

“Miss Minnie’s husband,” she stated matter-of-factly. “Ain’t he the prettiest cat you ever saw?”

Her proud grin made him shake his head. Only Patience would see the beauty in such a sight. She gave credence to all mothers who thought their baby the most special, even when their infant was as ugly as a bar of lye soap.

“Come on, girl. We’ve got us some fish to catch.”

A short time later, Luke sat cross-legged beside Red Bank Creek.

“You don’t hafta put my worm on,” Patience informed him, copying his every move. “I can do it myself.”

Watching her study the can of wiggly bait brought puzzlement. At first, he blamed her hesitation on a squeamish nature, but he changed that assumption when she reached in and pulled out a juicy one.

“Sorry, Mr. Worm, I hate to kill you. I hope you don’t have any children. But we need to catch some fish for supper so Glory won’t have to worry.”

Her apology touched him in places he hadn’t visited in a while. She’d tried to find the one who’d be least missed. Like he’d done when his father gave the ultimatum that he could keep only one in a litter of pups. He’d looked into the mother’s pleading eyes, then chosen the runt because she wouldn’t mind losing that one quite so much.

Such a long time ago and yet it seemed like yesterday.

Without contemplating the worm’s family, Luke selected one, threaded it on the hook, and dropped the line in the water.

Patience followed suit and leaned back on her elbows. “I like fishing with you. Ain’t this fun?”

“Yep.” He stuck a matchstick in his mouth and let it hang out the side. Funny how the girl’s language switched. In her mother’s company, “ain’ts” automatically became “isn’ts.”

“I noticed you and Hope don’t go to school in town.”

“They don’t want us. Ol’ Miss Goodnight said we couldn’t come.” The girl squinted when she raised her face. “Mama teaches us cipherin’, readin’, an’ writing when she don’t have a sick headache. She used to be a schoolmarm before she married my papa.”

Wasn’t right to blame the children for the sins of the father, either real or made up. It was the townspeople’s attitude that was the sin, surely.

“It’s a shame Glory had to go to town or she could’ve come with us.” He gave the girl a sidelong glance, keeping his tone casual.

“She an’ Mama had business to take care of.”

“Business, huh?”

“But Glory wouldn’t have come anyhow. All she does is work, work, work. An’ when she ain’t working, she’s bossin’ me around.”

He jiggled his pole up and down, ignoring the bossin’ part. From watching the family, he reckoned Patience wouldn’t have suffered any from a good deal more scolding than she got.

“Couldn’t have anything to do with the visitor last evening, you don’t suppose?”

The girl copied his movements, jerking her pole. “Mr. Fieldings at the bank sent him.”

He shouldn’t have pumped Patience for information. But after Glory’s desperate deal-making attempt, he’d suspected as much.

“You don’t say.”

“He’s callin’ in the note on the farm. Glory says we have two weeks to pay what’s due or we hafta leave.”

“Two weeks? Not much time.”

Little wonder the blue-eyed beauty had resorted to begging. In comparison to the Day family’s plight, clearing his name seemed minor. This new development put a rush on his plans.

“Glory’ll think of something. She said not to worry.” Big tears welled in the girl’s eyes. “But I still do anyway.”

Her shoulders seemed too small when his arm slid around them. “Punkin, I’m going to make sure you keep what’s yours. I promise.”

* * *

“Mama, how are you today?” Glory asked the question she’d put off since Ruth climbed into the buckboard. She must judge her mother’s state of mind before they faced the banker.

“Fine, dear. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Sometimes you scare me. I don’t know how to help. And the things you say don’t make sense.” That wasn’t the half of it, but she couldn’t just come right out and voice her suspicions.

“Not to worry, dear. I’m perfectly well.” Ruth smoothed her hair back with long, slender fingers.

Glory persisted. “You understand why we’re going to town?”

The clop of the mule’s hooves on the hardened ground couldn’t override Ruth’s loud sigh.

“We’re going to talk to Mr. Fieldings, silly goose.”

“You remember what about, don’t you?”

For a second or two, Glory could tell from her mother’s expression that confusion fought with reality. Glory wondered which side of Ruth would win. She crossed her fingers.

“Of course I do.” Impatience echoed in the sharp tone. “Don’t speak to me as if I were a child.”

“Sorry, Mama. I need to make sure you grasp the situation.”

“I don’t care for your sassy tongue, Glory Marie Day!”

“You’re right. I apologize.” Feeling rotten for overstepping her bounds, she quit probing.

Rampant thoughts of the deal with McClain swam in her head. She couldn’t bear to remember the scandalous declaration.

I’ll do anything you ask.

A desperate bargain for a girl who’d never kissed a man, much less given him leave to have his way. Without a doubt, he thought her bolder than a scarlet woman.

Hundreds of tiny prickles marched to the tune Luke had chosen. All the way to the meeting spot in her belly. The chance of what would happen if Fieldings turned down her offer created the maelstrom. She sucked in her breath. She’d have to keep her word.

Then again, could she endure the disappointment if he didn’t hold her to it? Now where in blazes had that thought sprung from?

Only the incessant creak of the wagon wheels and the mule’s noisy rumblings broke the silence.

Besides, if things went accordingly, she’d have no need for such ridiculous speculation.

“I know we need money.” Ruth’s childlike statement came from the blue.

“In the worst possible way, Mama.”

“Mr. Fieldings will give us a loan.”

“No loan. Time is what we’re asking for if we can’t persuade him to take the watch and brooch in trade. A few extra months should help us catch up so we won’t lose our home.”

“Oh.” Ruth shrugged her shoulders.

Glory had the answer to her question. Ruth’s mind drifted aimlessly toward no particular shore. She wouldn’t get much support from her mother today.

“I need you to stand with me, Mama. I’m depending on you to stay focused.” She couldn’t do everything by herself. Heaviness sat on her chest.

Sometimes she needed a parent. Sometimes she needed Papa.

The buckboard turned the corner onto Santa Anna’s main street. All of a sudden, everything blurred. She descended into a gray, thick fog.

Not now. This couldn’t…she didn’t have the strength to fight this enemy today.

Strange how her vision had remained crystal clear the whole of yesterday. In fact, after shooting the two turkeys, she believed the problem had passed. Now, it returned with a vengeance.

Glory gripped the reins tightly, trying to salvage her mangled nerves. Don’t panic. Calm down. Take a deep breath.

Then, as quickly as the thick grayness had swooped over her, it left. The release of her pent-up air gave a good imitation of an overboiling teakettle.

Old Caesar appeared to sense their destination, for he made a beeline for First Bank and Loan and stopped before she could say whoa.

The establishment bustled with business. Glory wondered how many others stood in the same shoes as the Day family. Other families probably faced eviction too.

She captured Ruth, who had wandered to the dry goods store next door. When she entered the bank, she steered them to the nearest window. “We’d like a word with Mr. Fieldings, please.”

Alex O’Brien peered through the black iron bars separating him from the patrons. “Good morning, ladies. Nice to, uh…see you. I’m sorry. He’s, uh, busy right now. If you—”

“We’ll wait,” Glory interrupted, regretting her curt tone. No one could blame the young man for another’s greed.

Her grip on Ruth’s arm loosened a bit as she maneuvered them through the busy crowd to the bank proprietor’s closed office door.

“I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can do.” The banker’s flint-hardened refusal drifted through the partition. “You failed to uphold your part of the deal. I have no choice.”

Glory could plainly hear crying of the feminine kind mixed with low, deep mumbling. Her hopes dropped faster than the level of Red Bank Creek. Another family reduced to pleading. She met her mother’s troubled gaze. At least she could be thankful Ruth finally appeared to grasp their dilemma.

The door flew open and out stomped Helmut Volker. The German immigrant ushered his sobbing wife from the bank.

“Next!” Fieldings’s stare drilled a hole in Glory.

She never twitched an eyelid. But she did clutch the bag that contained their sole valuables tighter to hide her shaking hand.

Her heels pounded the wooden floor when she marched in. If it reminded anyone of a firing squad volley, she couldn’t help that. She perched stiffly on a chair. Following her, Ruth did the same.

“Let’s cut to the chase, Mrs. Day.” The portly man squeezed his girth into his protesting chair. “I know why you’re here.”

“How can you when we haven’t said?” Glory demanded.

A snort shot from Fieldings’s huge nostrils. His piggish breathing filled the room. She’d heard quieter hogs rooting in a favorite mud hole—or a slop pen.

“You’re here same as the others, trying to beg, borrow, or steal their way into my good favor. Won’t work.”

“If you had a good favor, no soul would know it. I wouldn’t steal or beg for a crumb of food. I’d rather starve to death. As for borrowing…that’s a mistake my father already made.” She glanced at Ruth and wished her mother had some gumption about her.

“I told Jack Day he’d rue his lack of judgment.” The chair screeched as he leaned back in satisfaction.

“My Jack’s an honest man! If we could get him home, he’d set things right and make you eat your words.”

A brief flash of fire shot from Ruth’s eyes. But before the sign of life took root, it vanished, and a dull pallor took its place. Glory wondered if it’d ever been there at all. “Mama’s not well.”

“My condolences.”

The overstuffed feather mattress didn’t appear a bit sorry.

“Sir, I have a simple request. We’ve brought some family valuables that we’re offering in exchange for the balance of the note. Or to buy us a little more time.” She fiddled with the strings, trying to get the cloth bag open. “These heirlooms mean everything to us. If our circumstances hadn’t gone past the point of no return, we’d keep them under lock and key.”

He leaned forward, a greedy leer in his beady eyes. She prayed he wouldn’t notice a few flaws—the missing emerald from the brooch and a broken watch stem. Perhaps he wouldn’t look close. At last the knot yielded. She reached inside.

“My grandfather’s silver pocket watch given to him by Sam Houston himself and Mother’s emerald brooch. Handsome, aren’t they?”

She stilled her trembles as she handed them over.

* * *

Luke returned their fishing poles to the barn. His mind whirled with purpose.

“Come on, Soldier.” He led the paint from its stall.

“I never knew your horse’s name. I like it.”

Patience glued herself to his side just as the strange-eyed Mr. George padded imperiously in her footsteps.

He didn’t relish his task. It was going to be hard for her to understand, and no amount of explaining would soften the blow.

“You never asked me.” He grabbed the saddle blanket and spread it over Soldier’s back. “Punkin, you wanna go help your sister in the house now?”

“Aw, she don’t need no help.” The girl flipped her pigtails in true Patience fashion. “You goin’ somewhere, Luke?”

Her mother would skin her alive if she heard her omit the “mister.”

“Yep.” The saddle seemed to weigh a ton when he lifted it up and adjusted the cinches. He couldn’t bear to see the hurt he knew he’d find in his fishing buddy’s innocent gaze.

“Where you goin’? Ain’t you gonna wait for Glory?”

“There’s things I have to do. Stuff that can’t wait. I have to go today…now.”

A sniffle tightened the pain in his gut. The girl didn’t know how this ripped his own heart out. Punkin deserved a better hero than a man like himself. She needed someone with honor who didn’t resort to shameless deceit and trickery.

And Glory? She’d be a mad hornet. Thank goodness he wouldn’t be around to catch her temper.

“Don’cha like us anymore?”

He stopped. Her quivering chin made the lump in his chest more uncomfortable. Leaning down, he took her face between his hands. With his thumb, he wiped away a tear that inched down her cheek.

“I’ll be back. It’s not forever.”

“You promise?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” Solemnly, he made an X on his chest with his forefinger.

If dying came first? Well, he’d just cross that bridge when he came to it.